


There's no I in Team (but fuck this fits perfectly)

by orphan_account



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Unrelated Hiro Hamada/Tadashi Hamada, implied future relationships, printers are the devil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 13:31:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4707719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just what he needs; some asshole floor manager who didn’t leave when he was supposed to, chewing him out. He’s probably fired. He’s not even getting paid, and he’s probably fired. And probably about to be in a lot of debt, too, but hey- <em>details</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's no I in Team (but fuck this fits perfectly)

 

* * *

**In most cases being a good boss means hiring talented people and then getting out of their way.**

**-Tina Fey**

 

* * *

It’s true what they say; when one thing goes wrong, _everything does._ Realistically, Hiro knows he can’t really complain; one didn’t simply _get_ an internship at THQ- much like one simply didn’t just walk into Mordor. The level of difficulty in both situations was practically on par.

But the thing about internships was that they paid...bugger all. And it didn’t really matter to anyone here if Hiro was doing three Master degrees and Honours in two other robotic related fields; to them, he was the coffee boy. The ‘find that one file I vaguely remember from five years ago’ guy. And for an eighteen year old who can think of _so many other things he’d rather be doing_ , unfortunate moments where he reached the day’s icing on the cake, so to speak, were frequently becoming easier and easier to find.

Like the printer breaking. Again. For the fiftieth time. And yeah, he could sacrifice an hour of sleep to come in early, print out what he needs, then go through the exact same day without an early mark or even a ‘thanks, kid’ for his valiant efforts-

Or he could literally snap. Snap and pretend to be busy for a few hours after his shift, hide in the broom closet for a few more. Wait until everyone went home then happily proceed to collect the tools he needed to give that printer; that possibly ten, fifteen grand printer, the one that was up to his chest in height and probably wider than he was tall, a much needed upgrade.

 That. That worked too.

He’s pretty sure the cleaner’s already been by and stared at the mess of parts strewn across the floor in the small space known only as the ‘copy room’, or Pit of Despair and Paper Jams, but considering the weird shit those poor people have probably seen in their time here, Hiro’s honestly not that concerned. His ipod is zipping around the room screeching _IT’S MY LIIIIIIIIFE_ at the top of it’s lungs, and the printer is now fitted with some much needed lasers.

To heat up the ink and stick it to the paper, not shoot anyone. There’s the pity.

But is it a bigger pity than the fact that, out of all the things he _could_ be doing, this is how Hiro’s decided to spend his Friday night?

Hard to tell.

Aside from his ipod and quiet metallic click as he screws a nail back into place, the office is silent. It’s almost like being in another world; the space outside the copy room door dark, a few green lights and glowing monitors on desks the only signs of any other sort of life. If he could work at this hour every night, he’d be fine with it.

Then again, he’s fairly certain the only reason he had an internship here in the first place was because...the secretary thought it was funny. He’d taken one look at Hiro and burst out into laughter, telling him to _chill, dude_ before giving him a time to come in on Monday.

Would’ve been nice if Fred had actually looked at his resume, though. He was expecting to work under scientists, not a balding accountant who wouldn’t know an actuator from a pair of pliers.

Scowling to himself, Hiro jerks his wrench down a little too quickly. It slips off, clipping in him in the chin, and the curse he lets out is foul enough to make Aunt Cass belt him, if she were here.

“Fuck it. Fucking- _fuck, alright you bastard_ , if that’s the way you want to play-” He’s small enough to _fit_ in the stupid thing; the outer shell immensely vast when most of the engine is haphazardly strewn across the floor. He fits perfectly; the light not great but enough to work with. He’s going to do this; he’s going to make this thing print by the _thousands_ without a single hiccup, and _nothing_ is going to stop him now.

“Um…” But something could make him jump, banging his head against the roof. Hiro looks around so fast he can hear his neck crick, stiff from hours of craning to look at the most awkward angles known to man.

There’s a pair of shoes by the door. They’re attached to a pair of dress pants, and, Hiro can only assume, the person wearing them.

“...I should ask if you’re okay,” The man starts; voice polite enough, but there’s an undertone to it that screams ‘guess who’s calling 911 in the next five seconds’. “But considering you’re waist-deep in _my_ printer, I might refrain. How-- _who_ are you?”

Considering he just banged his head on a stupid _piece of shit printer_ , he’s been better. Hiro really has, and his ipod inappropriately pipes up with an _uh oh, we’re in trouble_ , right before he swings partway out of the printer’s sad little covering to give it a _look._

It promptly silences itself.

“I’m peachy.” Hiro snaps out, rubbing his head. Just what he needs; some asshole floor manager who didn’t leave when he was supposed to, chewing him out. He’s probably fired. He’s not even getting _paid_ , and he’s probably fired. And probably about to be in a lot of debt, too, but hey- university student.

And if he’s going to face _those sort of consequences_ , he’s going to finish what he was doing, picking up the part he needs before ducking right back in. They’ll tear Hiro away from this stupid machine _screaming._

“Absolutely terrific; because, y’know, a multi-million dollar company can’t even manage to buy _one damn printer that actually works_ , so you know, peachy. Totally _awesome_. Couldn’t be better.”

He glares at the interior of the machine, cursing it for all of his woes. Its fault. All its fault. “If you ever jam again after this, I’m going to come back and _burn you._ ”

_Someone’s come along and it’s burst our bubble-_

“But not before I _shoot you._ ” He points a finger somewhere across the room, and his ipod once again leaves them in blissful silence.  


 

 

Okay. To be fair, he doesn’t really have an excuse for this. And lord help him, this is not exactly what he had in mind to put on his resume, either.

“...If it wasn’t working, you could’ve reported it to me and I would’ve put aside some cash to buy a new one,” The man eventually offers, tone tentatively more mild then it had been moments ago. The pair of shoes attached to dress pants cross the room to lean against some boxes; apparently, it’s been decided that some slip of a kid hiding in a seemingly destroyed printer isn’t much of a threat. Bad choice; he has a wrench. And it hurts. “You didn’t have to try and fix it, you know. I’m sure I don’t pay you to be a handiman. Who do you work for, anyway? Are you under Litt? I think he mentioned something about getting a new associate last week at the board meeting…”

In spite of himself, Hiro finds himself pausing in his important mission, brow furrowing. Why would the floor manager buy a new one? He’d probably have to-

Be the one paying all the bills, including Hiro’s painfully non-existent wage.

Right. Not the floor manager.

In a much slower movement than before, Hiro shifts to peek out from his dark abode, squinting a little at the lights on the ceiling until his eyes focus enough to see- Tadashi Hamada. The Tadashi Hamada. The guy who build one of the most innovative biomechanical pieces of the century. The boss. That Tadashi Hamada.

Just as slowly, he moves back into his place in the printer. And if the muffled little whimper that comes out of there sounds like he’s saying “fuck me”, that’s probably because he is.

“I w-you don’t. Pay me. I’m internshipping here.” Eloquent, Hamada. But considering how his day has gone and the situation Hiro’s gotten himself into, eloquence is the least of his problems. He exhales slowly, fingers moving across the pieces of the machine in an almost thoughtless action- if he’s working, maybe he can forget that _Tadashi fucking Hamada is leaning against a pile of boxes, watching him mutilate his printer._

That’d be great, actually.

“Which seems pretty pointless now, because a letter telling people about how I technically snuck back into the building to take your printer apart isn’t exactly appealing to most employers.”

“A letter? I don’t- _oh._ You think I’m going to fire you, right?” He sounds amused. Which is great, because at least one of them is. The shiny black shoes of Tadashi Hamada come steadily closer, and like a total fucking moron, Hiro sits his ass in the very back of the printer, legs bent crookedly and his wrench (his now. Might as well add theft onto his stunning record of grand printercide) clutched to his chest; as if it were a comfort blanket instead of a cold piece of steel.

Tadashi crouches down, and whilst Hiro isn’t sure how clearly he can be seen, the man is very much picture perfect. The media coverage really doesn’t do him any justice, because as tired as he seems to be, his smile is positively brilliant, eyes crinkling about the edges in a way that, as a soon to be fired intern, Hiro probably shouldn’t be taking note of.

But hey. He’s soon to be fired. Might as well make the best of it.

“Relax. I’m not going to fire you. I’m going to have to ask you to put my printer back into working order and not destroy my equipment again, but I’m not going to fire you.” Kneeling back on his heels, Tadashi shrugs out of his jacket, loosening his tie before sitting himself more comfortably on the floor. The image of an almost immaculate businessman is slowly being ruined, but it does _nothing_ to ruin just how blatantly Hiro ogles at the man as he unbuttons his cuffs and rolls the sleeves up past his elbows.

“Can I help?”

“Uh.” Stopping the strip tease would be a great start, actually. Not that it’s really a strip tease, or much of one. Honestly he’s watched so many videos of Tadashi on his tablet he doesn’t know how he _hadn’t_ recognised that voice right away, but seeing him basically dressing down like he spends every Friday night sitting with an intern rebuilding his printer is-

It’s a bit much.

That he’s not actually getting fired is just another fact that bounces off the level of incredulousness currently refusing to let any of this sink into Hiro’s brain. Not until he’s alone. And preferably, somewhere soundproof.

“I--sure, um- I rebuilt the stepper motor, if you could...pass that?” Because he could reach it himself. He could. But that would mean leaning out, practically over Tadashi’s lap to get it. He’s safer in his cramped piece of printer hell.

“And the pliers- couldn’t exactly tweak the control circuits in a broom closet- not that I was hiding in the- I’m going to shut up now.”

Good job, Hiro. Great job. You goddamn numpty.

“You’ve got it, boss,” Tadashi answers, his voice almost coy as he presses the motor into the his hands, and Hiro seriously considers attempting to print himself instead of paper, once this is done. Placing a hand on the floor and twisting his torso enough to reach behind and snatch up the pliers as well, Tadashi shoots Hiro a smile as he hands him the tools.

This is awkward. Working away on the printer as Tadashi leans into watch over his shoulder and effectively trap him inside the printer is especially awkward. Hiro swallows, then swallows again, taking care to keep his breathing even, despite the fact that his heart might just take a mad dash down the corridor at any minute.

Tadashi wasn’t his _absolute idol_ , but he was _an_ idol. Youngest innovator in the industry. Head of his own company. Pretty as hell and a spotless academic record- what wasn’t to idolise?

And then there was Hiro. Hiro _I might pay off my entire tuition at the end of the year because I spend most nights illegally bot fighting_ Hamada.

“I’ve gotta say, it’s a pretty good show of initiative to upgrade printer rather than replace it,” Tadashi muses. He’s leaning forward, trying to peer over his shoulder to see what’s happening. Trying to make sure Hiro actually _knows_ what he’s doing. “I mean, I doubt anyone else here would even _think_ to do that. Where’d you get the extra parts? Did you pick them up from the labs downstairs?”

He doesn’t sound angry. If anything, there’s honest curiosity there, and Hiro has no idea how to answer. Honestly is the best policy, some might say- but then, those people never illegally stayed in a building well past employee accessible hours, then stole a bunch of possibly expensive parts just because a printer pissed them off.

“Pretty sure most of the company hasn’t even looked in here since I started, actually.” There’s a slight grumble to his tone, even as he cracks a rather reluctant grin. “If anyone around here actually knows what to do with an intern besides coffees and printing, I’ll be surprised- no offence.”

“None taken. Actually...I don’t know your name,” Tadashi suddenly says, and Hiro twitches, dragged out of his less than innocent thoughts. “Relax; there are no ulterior motives. I’m not going to be putting it at the top of a pink slip or anything like that. It’s just polite, right?” Hiro takes a chance in glancing his way, and Tadashi smiles encouragingly, holding out a hand for him to take. “My name’s Tadashi Hamada.” _No shit. Really?_ “Pleased to meet you.”

The reassurance isn’t exactly soaked up; if anything, it makes Hiro more tense, and the way Tadashi asks for his name before holding out his hand is the final nail in the coffin. _Why_ he’s even bothering to be polite, Hiro doesn’t know, but there’s a reason most of his teachers had stars in their eyes before he’d gently broken the news to them that no, Tadashi did not have a long lost brother.

“Hiro Hamada.” His hands are smeared with ink, and Tadashi’s just- going to have to deal with that, because he’s sure that he’s gotten some on his chin at some point too and honestly having a temper tantrum over the printer really is the worst thing he’s ever done.”Look, uh- ten more minutes and I swear you’ll never have problems with this thing again. And I won’t play repairman with anything else- double the bargain.”

Tadashi let’s out a huff of amusement, at that.

“Another Hamada, huh?” Tadashi teases lightly, leaning back on his palms. Oh yeah, like he hasn’t heard that line fifty thousand times. The eye roll is more of an involuntary reaction, and he’s quick to turn away after doing so, because at this stage, finishing the job and going home to wallow in his shame is probably about the best outcome he can expect from tonight.

And so silence reigns supreme again, though Hiro swears he can practically hear his own mind buzzing away; a literal beehive of thoughts and half formed ideas. If he was at home, this was the time of night that would have him making his ipod into a matching set.

Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe the thing would be jealous enough to stop working out of pure spite.

“Hiro, who are you working under?” Tadashi asks after a moment, his head cocked as Hiro’s shoulders tighten. “Strictly confidential. I’m just curious.”

“...Benson, sort of. Whoever tells me to do something, mostly.” A slight shrug. He hears Tadashi scoff behind him, and to be fair, he’s not all that surprised. Benson works in _accounting,_ and as far as Hiro can tell, has never set foot in a robotics lab in his entire forty-four years of life. Computers make him uncomfortable; Baymax literally terrified him. Why he was even working here was beyond Hiro... but that’s not up to him to decide.

He leans closer to his work, eyes narrowing as he carefully works the pliers across the circuit boards- he should be using a lot more refined equipment for this. In a workshop. With spares.

But he was nothing if not adaptable to what he had to work with. The stupid thing would still work better, anyway.

It doesn’t take much longer from there. Even with the pressure of Tadashi watching over his shoulder, Hiro’s been on the home stretch for the past hour, and it feels _good_ to be there. Before closing the printer up completely, Hiro switches it on, holding his breath as he tests it out with several documents that wouldn’t print earlier that day.

Lo and behold, it spits out perfectly inked pages like it was made to do so- which it _was._ Even with Tadashi watching on, Hiro has to allow himself the small nod of satisfaction; after weeks of stress, printing was _not_ going to be another task on top of everything else that made him want to walk out the door and take up bot fighting as his full time job.

Hell, Tadashi even looks _impressed._ That’s always nice.

“Say, Hiro? D’you think I could show you something before you go home?” Tadashi pipes up as Hiro screws the metal panel back into place over the front of the printer. “It’s just in my office, and I think it’ll interest you a great deal.”

There’s a moment of silence as Hiro stares at him with a look that is downright _mortified,_ before Tadashi realises what double-meaning his words could have and starts to splutter.

“I-I didn’t mean-! I would _never-_ I mean, it’s not because I don’t think you’re not-”

Hiro’s pretty sure his boss just called him attractive.

“Look,” Tadashi sighs out, positively deflated in the wake of his own poor choice of words. “It’s one of my old prototypes. I’d like you to take a look at it and just...tell me what you think.”

In fact, he’s absolutely sure Tadashi Hamada just implied he was attractive, and is now utterly pink in the face because of it. If he was staring before, Hiro’s downright _gawking_ now. “S-sure? Just...let me get my ipod.”

Wherever it went.

Under one of the filing cabinets seems likely, and he crouches down beside the closet out with an outstretched hand. “If I leave you here, you won’t get to be an as- wake me up. And that would be heaven, honestly.”

It races onto his palm with a wheedle of _if you leave me now, you’ll take away the biggest p-_ before promptly being shoved into his pocket. That’s….that’s one 2am invention that he doesn’t exactly feel up to explaining right now.

With a weak smile and a casual shrug that seems to say _ipods, amirite_ , Hiro waves a hand at Tadashi, ignoring the raised brow that’s screaming for an explanation. “So...prototype? How old are we talking here?”

Tadashi grins over his shoulder at Hiro as he heads out of the room.

“You’ll see,” He says mysteriously before gesturing with his head for Hiro to follow him, waiting for the boy to follow before they head down the hallways together. He holds out a hand to Hiro, interest still peaked. “Could I see your ipod? That’s pretty advanced AI.”

He can’t save himself now, Hiro thinks, placing the small music player into his palm as they walk. Any fraction of pride he had before tonight is already gone. Tadashi turns it over in his hands, poking at the small wheels attached to the underneath and smiling as they spin, almost as if it’s ticklish.

He outright laughs as it trills out _sex bomb, sex bomb, you’re a sex bomb!_ to him, and Hiro feels his soul slowly making an attempt to leave his body.

“That’s...flattering. Thanks, ipod,” He chuckles, handing it back. _It_ goes right back into his pocket; forced to suffer through the horror of dirty pocket lint in a pathetic attempt at revenge as Hiro makes a strangled little noise of acknowledgement. Tadashi moves ahead to hold the door open for him, giving him the much needed space to mouth a few curses at the ceiling before Tadashi’s stepping past him to make himself comfortable on his desk, sitting on the edge of the glass and watching him keenly.

“You ready?” He asks, and Hiro nods, slightly confused, but more than ready to stop making an absolute moron of himself. Robots. Prototypes. Those were good things.. Clearing his throat, Tadashi says in a clear and slow voice, “Ow.”

There’s a small beep from the corner of his office, followed by the sound of inflation as Baymax, _the_ Baymax erupts from the small red box; bigger than the ones the company mass produces and a lot more rotund, Baymax toddles out of his docking station and immediately hones in on Tadashi, like a duckling immediately finds its mother.

“Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion,” The robot intones with a small wave, before it almost _relaxes_ at the sight of its creator. “Good evening, Tadashi. How was your day?”

“It was good, buddy. Thanks for asking.” Tadashi waves a hand over at him, and black optics focus down on Hiro, shutters closing in something akin to a blink.  “I want to introduce you to someone. Baymax, this is Hiro Hamada. Hiro, this is Baymax. The original of the line we produce.”

Baymax turns to face him, his black eyes blinking once more, before tottering forward on stubby legs and holding out a large hand.

“How do you do, Hiro?” He intones. “Are you well? Do you require treatment?”

Hiro shoots a stricken look Tadashi’s way, but the man just smiles, waving a hand. _Go ahead. Have at him._

_Shut up._

Hiro’s eyes can’t get anymore round, and his awe feels like a physical being all on it’s own, filling the room in a way where he can almost visually see it. Or at least, it blurs everything but the bot in front of him- _the bot. The Baymax._ The original.

Tadashi had been working on this when he was at SFIT. It was his final project, and obviously he’d had some very rich backers who were interested in seeing it out and about in the world, since Baymax models were practically in every hospital in the continent, now.

And fuck him, he’d never thought he’d actually see it in _person._

“Holy shit.” Is about the most reverent thing that’s going to come out of his mouth for the next five minutes, stepping forwards almost hesitantly as those optics follow him. Hyperspectral cameras, he mouths to himself. Not cheap. Not easy to get right. And yet when he waves back Baymax has absolutely no problem following the motion, even though he waves for a little longer than necessary.

Considering he’s about six years out of date, and how long that amount of time was in a rapidly advancing field, the nursebot still managed to look way ahead of the times.

“Hiro?” Baymax questions, shifting to follow him as he slowly walks around him. “Are you well?”

“I’m good. I think. I’m just-” Having problem with words. Hiro circles Baymax twice, flicking the vinyl gently before taking a sly glance in Tadashi’s direction. He doesn’t look offended, simply amused, and so Hiro figures he has about as much right as anyone to shove his face against the plush body and have a better look.

“Alumin- no, carbon fibre, right? Lighter. And-- _those actuators,_ they’re-” Expensive as hell and machined in house at SFIT; he’s been _dying_ to have access to some of those. Dying.

Oh god, it’s everything he imagined and more. And his AI is-

“Are you sure you’re alright, Hiro? Your neurotransmitter levels are fluctuating.” The robot informs him. “Might I suggest sitting down for a moment.”

“ _God no._ I’m good, thanks.” Sort of. Running a hand through his hair in disbelief, Hiro’s not sure what to do. Keep looking for a few more hours seems like a good bet...but of course he does the least smart thing.

He opens his mouth.

“Capacitors.”

Tadashi pushes himself up off the table and approaches, and Hiro mentally kicks himself a few dozen times. Even then, he can’t keep the grin off his face, eyes straying back to Baymax like a kid who just found mommy kissing Santa Claus.

Embarrassing for everyone involved, but hey. At least Santa was real.

“Capacitors?” He repeats, drawing Hiro’s attention to himself. “Care to expand on that, Hiro?”

“Don’t get me wrong, lithium ion does the job and I know the models are never too far from their stations, but the battery life is an issue when they’re active for large amounts of time.” He rattles it off like something he’s recited; mostly because it’s an issue that’s run circles round his mind for days at a time. Baymax is _ingenious,_ but that was the one, fatal flaw that always kept the college student up at night. Why just _those batteries?_ “But I mean, he’s a _health companion._ Taking five minutes to recharge isn’t always going to be realistic.”

Hiro chews his lip, faltering. Here he is, lecturing the creator on why his battery system sucks. There’s probably a special place in hell for people like him.

“It’s just….if he had capacitors- not as main power, but as a support system, he’d be able to go for three times as long before even having to dock at all. And you wouldn’t have situations like New Years at San Fran Hope.”

Which had been a literal nightmare all of its own. Holidays weren’t a great time for people being drunk and injuring themselves, and the complaints from the departments in regards to their bots sudden drunken behavior, effectively hindering doctors and nurses from doing their work until they’d been led back to their docking stations wasn’t exactly a golden moment for the company, as a whole.

“An interesting idea,” Tadashi hums thoughtfully, reaching out to brush a clump of lint from Baymax’s shoulder. “Thing is, for a capacitor to be effective, it’s gonna have to be a pretty hefty size, right? I’m thinking a car battery, at its smallest.”

Tadashi pokes Baymax’s chubby side before continuing, “With this guy? Yeah, it could work; I made him a little too big to be practical in compact wards and operating theatres, so when we started mass-producing, we had to make Baymax a lot smaller...probably about your size,” he says with a smile, giving Hiro’s five-foot something frame the once over.

“We could probably redesign Baymax’s overall appearance, but he’d need a stronger skeleton to hold the battery, as well as making his covering larger to ensure that his pointy bits don’t poke someone in the wrong place.”

“True, but if you reworked one to fit with his build…” Tadashi pauses, watching Hiro for a moment. He shifts uncomfortably under the gaze, but holds it regardless. He knows he has a point. No pointy edges, adapted to Baymax specifically. Internally, Hiro’s already drooling at the concepts that come to mind; hours and hours of work, for sure, but hours of work which would make Baymax _so_ much more adaptable.

“We’d have to see about getting funding for it. Manufacturing something like that wouldn’t be cheap- but it’s a good idea.” Tadashi has a thoughtful look on his face, eyes staying with Hiro rather than Baymax. He has a sinking feeling that he knows what’s coming. “A _very_ good idea. Tell me, Hiro, have you started work on your final presentation for SFIT? I’m assuming you’re fourth year, despite being what? Nineteen? Twenty?”   

Oh boy.

Applying for an internship had been the most difficult process of his life. Sure, THQ had been his ideal goal from the get go, but it hadn’t be about placing his entire hopes on the one company. He’d applied. _Everywhere._ And time and time again, he’d been laughed out, knocked back, or never replied to, because most of his peers were at least three years his elder and _sure kid, and my cousin built a full sized rocket when he was ten._ Starting university at the blossoming age of fourteen had it's drawbacks.

Luckily the secretary here had actually found the idea of having him around funny.

“Eighteen.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, expression practically _daring_ Tadashi to comment. “And yeah, it’s due at the end of next semester.”

The man has the grace to close his mouth after a few moments, at least.

“Right, right…” Tadashi murmurs, scratching the back of his head before he straightens, expression schooling into something much more official. The Tadashi from the media, rather than the almost too kind person he’s been talking to for the past hour.  “Listen, I’ll be honest with you, Hiro. You’re being _wasted_ on Benson; the man’s never touched a wrench in his life, and email scares him. I’d like to offer you the opportunity to work under me. I-if you want.”

Hiro feels his expression go slack, mouth dropping open with surprise as Tadashi clears his throat and continues.

“You’re smart, Hiro. _Really_ smart. And I think I could teach you a lot more than anyone else in this building ever could. I want to offer you a proposal; work with me over the summer; learn how the company works. Spend as much time as you want in the labs working on your final presentation, or at least brainstorming ideas. I’ll help you, if you want it. You do good at the SFIT showcase, and there’s a guaranteed job here for you at the end of it.”

There’s silence following his words, and Tadashi looks less and less sure of himself with every second that passes by.

“Um...what do you think?”

“ _Shut up._ ”

A job here.

A guaranteed job here, at the end of next semester. That’s only six months. He hasn’t even started his final piece yet; too many concepts jumbling around in his head to decide on just one and admitting that to Tadashi almost means admitting that he doesn’t even know what he did to his ipod; it was 2am and he was high on energy drinks and lack of sleep and he’s pretty sure it seemed like a good idea at the time and _a job here._

And all he has to do to earn it is _work under Tadashi Hamada until he blows him away with his final presentation._

Un. Fucking. Believable.

Hiro’s eighteen, so he has to forgive himself for the way he’s grinning ear to ear, running a hand through his hair and resisting the urge to pinch himself, just in case he fell asleep in the broom cupboard while he was waiting for everyone to go home. But no- Tadashi doesn’t disappear like a mirage; he’s not taking his words back, either, even if there’s a smile at the corners of his mouth that practically screams he’s trying not to laugh.

There’s a clash in his mind between the urge to kiss Tadashi or just hug him, which results in him flinging himself at the other for the briefest hug in the history of the earth, stagger complimentary of Tadashi Hamada. He-- realises exactly what he’s doing a moment later, pulling away and clearing his throat, trying to keep a straight face in the wake of potentially making the man regret even opening his mouth.

“Yes. Yeah. Absolutely. That’d be awesome.”

_Also, you smell great. Has anyone told you that lately?_

Tadashi laughs softly, hands going into his pockets as he opens his mouth to say-

“Tadashi.” Hiro practically jumps out of his skin, head jerking to the side as Baymax peers over at them, his own head tilted off to the side in an almost conspicuously innocent motion.

“Your dopamine levels have increased. This means you are happy. I recommend that Hiro gives you hugs more often to improve your overall neuro-”

“ _Okay,_ Baymax. I’m satisfied with my care; back in the box, please.” Tadashi all but rushes the words out, putting out two hands and forcibly pushing the robot back towards his docking station. Baymax goes agreeably, having heard his deactivation phase, but that doesn’t stop the big lummocks from stopping with one foot in the red box before turning to look at Hiro.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Hiro.” Tadashi trips slightly as Baymax’s body begins to deflate shrinking smaller and smaller before the top of his docking station closes with a final beep. and the room is silent.

“He’s...his AI is a lot more advanced than the others. Always pulling a fast one on me.” Tadashi isn’t looking at him; but that just means Hiro has the perfect vantage point to see how red his ears have gone.

Bless Baymax. And bless Tadashi’s preoccupation with getting the robot to go away, because it gives Hiro the chance to look up to the heaven and mouth a silent, but heartfelt _thank you._

Tadashi Hamada definitely thinks he’s cute and likes being hugged spontaneously. Hiro’s pretty sure his first port of call when getting home was to tell Aunt Cass everything, and possibly google Tadashi so she could get a good look for herself.

Honestly, if her reaction was anything short of _Hiro, if you don’t marry this man, I will,_ then he didn’t know his aunt.

And Baymax likes him too. That seconds all kind of warm, tingly feelings through his chest, like he’s the one who’s just been hugged. Or perhaps sleep deprivation was finally getting to him, which meant it was possibly time to excuse himself before he turned Tadashi’s laptop into yet another painfully sentient machine, as well.

Actually, that might be an idea. If a printer could land him a job, who knows what a sentient laptop could get him?


End file.
